They say love is light, a gentle breeze
But love is fire, and fire can burn.
We tremble at our own reflections,
Afraid to face the ache inside.
Pain, they say, is the enemy,
A shadow creeping in the night.
But pain is not a ghost to fear
It is the voice that calls us home.
Carry it like a weathered radio,
A beacon loud within your chest.
Feel the strength that rises there,
Born from wounds you will not hide.
Feelings are the roots of you,
The soil of your truth and fight.
To shun them is to lose yourself
To hand your soul to silent lies.
Stand tall, and claim your rightful space,
Own the storm inside your veins.
For pain is not your shame to bear
It is your fire, your pulse, your name.
Makhaveli
2025-06-16 19:32:02 +0000 UTCGoshen Stephen
2025-06-13 01:24:58 +0000 UTC